


From the Earth

by iaintafraidofnoghostbear



Series: Horror Ficlets [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Creepy, M/M, Necromancy, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaintafraidofnoghostbear/pseuds/iaintafraidofnoghostbear
Summary: So I will not ask youWhy you were creepingIn some sad way I already know





	From the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two weeks of listening to nothing but Like Real People Do and In a Week by Hozier on repeat.

Ivan watches. It used to unsettle Nolan, he knows; he’d demanded, once, in a fit of pique why Ivan was staring at him. The emotions that had twisted across Nolan’s face when Ivan said “Remembering” were confusing. It was easier not to worry about it. 

Watching Nolan when he’s asleep is easier, too. He’s relaxed, then, instead of looking wary or haunted or pained. He still won’t tell Ivan what hurts him, why his expression is always so pinched. Asleep, his brow is smoothed, his lips parted a little as he snores lightly. He curls against Ivan’s chest, all but clinging. 

Ivan remembers some of before. He remembers hockey and Nolan and Philly. Vaguely, he remembers the teammates and friends Nolan talks about. Travis. Claude. More strongly, he remembers his parents and Sasha and Vova - strongly enough that he feels he might scream if he were to open his mouth. He can’t see them again. He knows that. Nolan explained why and, well. 

Ivan remembers dying. 

The doctors had told his friends and family it had been quick. Painless. They were telling the truth, mostly. There had been pain so fleeting Ivan’s not sure he imagined it when trying to remember the crash. He’d been dead, and then he wasn’t, listening to the steady  _ thudthudthud  _ of what he later realized was a shovel. Hands raw with fresh blisters and covered in earth had pulled him up and back into the world. 

Those first few days are a blur, still. Nolan had said it was his soul trying to reconnect with his body, memories tossed aside to focus on bodily function, and that it would get better. Some days, it feels like it has. Other days, it feels like Ivan could slip back into that warm light with no more than a breath and an unclenching of his fist. 

Regardless, Ivan had died. Nolan had brought him back. No one could know, because, well. What was dead should stay dead. That’s what they’d always been taught. In his more lucid moments, Ivan wants to be upset with Nolan for being so foolish, for taking such a risk; he could’ve summoned nearly  _ anything _ to reanimate Ivan’s body. He could’ve died. He finds, though, the anger doesn’t last. It’s too strong, too draining, and it’s easier to let go. He’s here, now, with Nolan and that’s all that matters. 

Ivan still hasn’t asked why. 

He thinks to, sometimes, but Nolan gives him such a pleading look, bracing for the question like he would a blow and Ivan just. Doesn’t. He’s sure it has to do with the way Nolan clings to him at night. And it probably has to do with that scar on Nolan’s chest; the one that wasn’t there before. He remembers that much. There’d been scars on Nolan’s stomach, small ones on his hands, the tattoos for his family. But this one is shiny and new, thick and twisted and painful-looking, right over his heart. Nolan won’t let Ivan touch it, but - in the early hours of the morning - Ivan thinks he knows why. 

He’d asked to go back, once, to the place he was buried. It was risky, difficult, but he’d only asked and left it at that. Nolan had eventually agreed, and they’d gone. His grave was neat, his tombstone dark marble.  _ Son. Brother. Teammate _ . Those were the words used to describe him in his epitaph. It made his heart ache and he had to take slow breaths to reign in the desire to simply crawl back into the earth. 

Next to his headstone is a small patch of dead grass, perfectly square in shape. Ivan stares at it for a moment, feeling his stomach twist. Nolan protests weakly when Ivan steps toward it, but he already knows what he’s going to find. Sinking his fingers into the dead wisps and cold dirt, Ivan closes his eyes, letting sensation run up through his fingertips. 

_ ThumpThumpThump. _

With a soft sigh, he stands again, this time reaching for Nolan. Nolan doesn’t protest when Ivan’s hands rest over his scar, and Ivan presses their foreheads together when he realizes he can’t feel anything at all. 


End file.
